"Coffee?", he asked in Russian."As black as my soul.", Nick stated in his mother tongue as he sat down as his yes to the old man's offer, Ivan chuckled."You look tired.", Nick jousted jokingly, Ivan raised his already low sitting brow behind a groomed and greying goatee;"Ha, I'm always tired, my boy.", he smiled and exposed one silver canine."This place is, not like you...", Nick coolly pointed out."Brahms.", the old man answered clicking his fingers for a waiter, he then grabbed and stroked his cane made from his very own left femur bone as he waited to be assisted, "I enjoy French cuisine.", sitting up as straight as a broomstick, so much so that the double breasted coat he wore looked half folded as if he were a walking hanger as he ordered two coffees."You called?", Nick asked."Several new clients are interested.", Ivan answered."Marcel DuPont, a regular but I've heard things of a drug bust in recent months...", Nick patiently listened as Ivan continued whilst he reached f
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